


What We Can't Understand

by TheSoundOfThunderstorms



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Based off a dream, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Intermediate state, Psychological Thriller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-20 03:24:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15524991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSoundOfThunderstorms/pseuds/TheSoundOfThunderstorms
Summary: "What did we do?"





	What We Can't Understand

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic based on a wild dream I had. I thought it fit Spiderbyte to a T so I wrote it out. Took a looooooooong time to finish but here it is. Did some experimenting with formatting. Y'all can tell me if you hate it in the comments :)
> 
> Enjoy.

“Have you decided what to do?”

“Yes.”

“You know what’s going to happen if you go through with it, what they’ll do to you.”

She picked up her rifle and lined up the scope. “Yes.”

A hand pressed against her shoulder, squeezing once before letting go. “Then I’ll come with you.”

Incessant ringing enveloped her hearing and her vision blurred as she tried to conjure a face. She could never remember who it was.

1

She opened her eyes as a chill washed over her. One blink. Then two. She lifted a hand to wipe the sleep away, noting the blue hue of her skin. It didn’t bother her as much as give a sense of familiarity, something she needed as she examined her surroundings.

She stood in a box. Five of its sides see-through, the whole of it suspended in darkness. She could see the number 1 glowing faintly from the corner of her eye before focusing on what was in front of her. A black door. She’d never seen it before.

Her hand touched the smooth surface of the door before dropping to her side. How long have I been here? The question burned in her mind as a flurry of blurred-out memories zipped through her consciousness.

Memories, or were they dreams?

Another touch to cool metal. The door opened and she came stumbling out. She had to shield her eyes from the bright light, the impossible whiteness surrounding her from all sides. The outline of a door lit up each time her head pounded with pain. She headed towards it, reaching out blindly to open it.

The pain subsided in the new room. A lounge of sorts. Several sets of eyes fell on her, fear shining through each of them. Question after question refused to leave her lips until she finally settled on one that whispered to her the loudest.

“Where am I?”

Her voice sparked action. Someone backed away, their legs hitting the table behind. A table lamp shattered from being knocked to the floor.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” someone else said.

She shifted her attention to the voice, to the way their eyes kept flickering to her sleeve. Pulling it down, she examined the fabric. It was all black, save for the golden infinity symbol. She couldn’t conjure any meaning to it.

A door opened. Someone tugged on her hand, pulling her attention away from the meaningless mark. The person pulled her into a hallway and they continued down it until they came across a blacked-out section. A door closed shut behind them and all she could focus on was the deep breathing filling the air. Until the lights came on.

I know you.

She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the woman standing across from her. She’d seen that smile gleaming at her a thousand times over and when the woman spoke, she stood straighter, chilled to the bone of its familiar grasp.

“You’re here.” The woman’s lips trembled as she tried to keep her smile. “Took you long enough.”

Her eyes trailed a single tear that fell down the woman’s cheek. She lifted her hand in an automatic response, wiping the tear away with her thumb. If it was to stop the crying, it didn’t work. More tears spilled and she found herself lost on what to do. Her hand fell back to her side as she watched the woman clear away her face with the sleeve of her jacket.

“Who are you?”

The smile morphed into a grimace at the question. “We can talk about that next time.”

She trusted her. A deep-seated instinct. They’d meet again. The woman grabbed her hand with a feather-light touch and brought her to a small bed.

“You don’t have much time but,” she seemed nervous,” do you mind sitting with me for a bit?”

The bed dipped under her weight. Tension drifted from her body at the smile that reappeared. She wanted it to stay. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“People saw you. They’re going to come looking for you.” The woman furrowed her brows, clearly troubled with something. “I should have been there first.”

The explanation cleared up nothing. Nonetheless, she felt the urgency, the pull to that place, to that room without a name. She reached out to cup a tear-stained cheek. Her thumb drew soothing patterns as the woman beside her relaxed into the touch. “I still don’t understand.”

“And that’s my fault,” the woman took hold of the comforting hand, thoughtlessly interlacing their fingers, “but I’ll be there next time, okay? We’ll have more time to talk then.” A rush of footsteps ran past the door. She stiffened up at the sound and stood up. “And there goes our time together.”

Led by the hand, she was directed out of the room, back down the hallway, and through to the now empty lounge. As she opened the door to the bright room, she looked back to see that the tears had come back even stronger than before.

“It’ll be okay.” The words left her lips before she could process them. It hit her as something she said before, something said between them. She felt light-headed as voices and images skipped in her head. It looped around, trying to point out the obvious, what she should have known.

The door to the lounge opened. Three figures in white rapidly approached her. They ignored the crying woman and tried to grab her by the arm. She ducked away, running through the blinding light back to the black door. It opened upon her arrival and she hurried inside.

Alone again, blackness surrounding her. For some time she stood there, expecting the door to open from behind but nothing happened. She turned around and pressed her hand against it. It wouldn’t move.

A glow caught her attention. She craned her neck to see the illuminated number. 1. The red light blinked again and revealed a tower of numbers below it. It ran down to the number 13.

The room jolted, toppling her to the floor. She didn’t attempt to get back up. Her eyes were already sealed shut in sudden exhaustion.

It happened before. That’s what she remembered as she went to sleep.

“I’ve seen you before.”

“I’m surprised you could forget.”

“Who are you?” A laugh rang in her ears.

“You’ve always known.”

2

A red light bled through her eyelids; they fluttered open at the incessant hindrance. She turned her head and examined the brightly lit number. It blinked every few seconds, burning the image of the number 2 behind her eyes.

She was standing, something she didn’t recall doing since falling asleep on the floor. The same black door enraptured her attention as she shook away the uneasy feeling that came from dwelling on her predicament. It didn’t matter how she ended up standing, she needed to focus on leaving, on seeing _her_ again.

Before she could touch the door in front of her, it slid open, exposing her to a slightly different room than the one before. The only thing that changed was the lighting. A dark purple illuminated the walls and she heard something bouncing across the room.

In a corner near the exit, a figure sat while they bounced a rubber ball off the walls. They were clutching something close to their chest. At the sound of her footsteps, they lifted their head. Her again.

The ball dropped to the floor and the woman hurried to stand up. A grin overtook her features as she held out a jacket. “This is for you.”

She took the jacket, noting the purple material matching the lighting in the room. Instinct told her to put it on. A scent surrounded her. It had her clutching the jacket, pulling it tighter against her body. The woman smiled at the display, obviously pleased with something. She didn’t hesitate to take the hand offered to her, willingly following along behind the stranger who looked at her with kind eyes.

They got to another dark room. A covered lamp illuminated the small interior. The most notable piece of furniture was a bed. A flicker of their last encounter sparked.

“You said that you would tell me your name the next time we met.”

The woman’s lips tugged up, her eyes widening in delighted surprise at the question. “Yeah, okay, I promised.” She crossed her arms and stared down at the ground, tapping her foot as the seconds ticked by. It seemed that she was thinking hard about something. “Sombra.” She lifted her head and smiled, scratching at the back of her neck in a laid-back gesture. “My name is Sombra.”

A burning sensation started at her nape, traveling upwards through her neck until a headache formed behind her eyes. Her eyes blurred as she stared on at Sombra.

The image of the woman in front of her glitched before her eyes, to a place with a million lights and cold wind. Sombra had her hand extended, moonlight highlighting gloves that pulsed with a purple glow. She reached for Sombra’s hand and blinked rapidly as the scene changed again.

She was holding onto Sombra’s arm when she realized she was still in the same dimly lit room. Sombra removed the hand with gentle fingers and led her to the bed.

“Did you...,” Sombra took a second to rephrase her words, “Were you thinking about something?”

“Lights and crisp air. I saw you there. You were trying to shake my hand.” The laugh that came from Sombra startled her.

“Oh god. That’s what you remember?” Sombra pressed a hand to her face, covering her eyes as her smile widened. “You wouldn’t even attempt to shake my hand. You just stared at me like I grew two heads that day.”

“That day?”

“The day we met.”

She pressed her lips together, processing the implications of Sombra’s words. “You knew me, who I was and everything I can’t remember.”

“Yes.” A quiet answer, barely traveling the distance between them.

She reached out for the hand covering Sombra’s eyes, coaxing the shaking fingers away. A pang of electricity traveled through her veins when she locked eyes with Sombra. An endless sorrow stared back at her. “Who am I?” Warm fingers squeezed her hand as she asked the question.

“They called you Widowmaker.”

She couldn’t recall a ‘they’, couldn’t conjure any significant feelings to pair with the name. “And what did you call me?”

“You were Amélie to me.”

Something dripped onto her leg. She looked down, seeing the splattering of tears roll down her skin after they hit.

Amélie.

She heard it before.

Amélie.

Hushed whispers spoke the name on dark nights. Over and over, starting a fire in her blood.

“Amélie.” It was her name and she knew it well. “It feels familiar.” She didn’t move when Sombra reached out to wipe away her tears.

“That’s… That’s good.”

Amélie took hold of Sombra’s hand before she could bring it back. She held it palm up, tracing the deep lines on warm skin. Instinct told her to comfort the woman beside her, to keep some semblance of contact. She didn’t question it, didn’t even resist the pull towards Sombra. “We’re not strangers.” Her fingers paused as the next question settled on her tongue. “What am I to you?”

Sombra squeezed her eyes shut. Her arm spasmed as if she tried to pull it back but changed her mind. A smile spread across her face, signaling a smart reply. “Brave, strong,” she turned her hand over, curling her fingers around blue skin, “and a hottie.”

Another instinct. Amélie pinched Sombra’s arm, watching with a growing smile as Sombra exaggerated the pain.

“Ow, take it easy,” Sombra pressed a hand to her chest and raised her nose to the air, “I’m delicate.”

“You’re avoiding the question.”

Sombra’s smile fell, barely forming an upward tug at the corner of her lips. “I am.” She took a deep breath. “I just need a bit more time. Next time, okay?”

Purple eyes looked for something. Amélie couldn’t figure out what it was. Not yet. She found herself nodding to Sombra’s words, trusting that they would meet again. “My time’s up again.”

A gentle tug was all Sombra needed to pull her hand free from Amélie’s grasp. She hugged her elbows and peered down at the floor as heavy footsteps ran past the door. “Yeah.”

Amélie stood up from the bed and walked to the door. Shuffling sounded behind her until Sombra walked past and opened the door. She stepped out into the hallway, checking both directions with careful eyes. Amélie took Sombra’s offered hand that confirmed that they were alone.

The walk stayed silent. Amélie strode a step behind Sombra, concentrating on the static images appearing along the walls. Sombra didn’t notice them or maybe she ignored them all as they continued on. If it weren’t for Sombra, Amélie would be stuck standing in the middle of the hallway, unable to do anything but experience the blurred memories each image invoked. The grip on her hand held firm when she tried to stop for just one second to catch the images fading away as she passed them. She wanted for one moment to remember, to remember everything that disappeared before her eyes.

When they arrived at the purple room, Sombra let go of Amélie’s hand. She gave a pained smile, trying hard to keep her tears at bay.

“I’ll see you again.”

Amélie nodded and walked towards the black door. She heard a rubber ball hitting the floor behind her as the black door opened, ushering her inside.

Cold.

An icy mist filled the suspended room. Amélie let out a shaky breath and pulled the jacket tighter against her body. She stood there, unable to do anything else but inhale the cold water-vapor. Her body became heavy as she slid to the floor, the last bits of consciousness fading.

So cold.

“Do you remember now?”

“Remember what?”

“That I-”

3

 “You’ve done this before.”

“Yes.”

“How many times has it been?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll always be there for you.”

4

 “How long have I been here?”

5

 “Where are you?”

6

Her eyes flashed open and she stared with angry eyes at the black door. She sat with balled fists pressing into her thighs as she glared. The mist faded as the minutes passed until she could see the numbers again. 6. She missed three floors.

Amélie stood up and pressed her hand to the door. It refused to open. She felt along the metal, looking for anything to get it to budge. Nothing.

Bang.

She didn’t feel the pain as her hand collided with the door.

Bang.

Her nails screeched against the door as she tried everything to get it open. She pressed her forearms against the metal and leaned her head against it. Amélie shut her eyes and exhaled through clenched teeth. A powerful kick collided with the door. “I want to see her.”

Nothing.

Amélie gave a tired, soft knock, defeated by the fortress of a door.

Two muffled knocks sounded from the other side.

She knew, felt it in her being, that Sombra was standing on the outside, letting her know that she was there. That was all she needed. To know she wasn’t alone meant everything.

Five knocks wrapped against the door in a familiar pattern. Amélie smiled, knocking twice in response. For now, this was okay.

“If there was something you could have right now, what would it be?”

“Chocolate.” Sweet laughter filled her ears.

“Chocolate, really? I thought you’d want one of those fancy wines you used to drink.”

“Both is better.”

“Want to try and find some?”

7

The door stood open when Amélie awoke. Sombra slept slumped against the far wall, the hood of her jacket covering her eyes. Pulling herself up, Amélie pushed herself out of the room. She stopped in front of Sombra, bending down for a closer view. A smile spread across her face at the idea forming in her head.

Amélie reached out and tapped Sombra on the forehead. She did it again, satisfied when Sombra finally reacted. As Sombra yawned, Amélie pulled down her hood farther, covering more of Sombra’s face with the fabric.

Sombra sat still for a moment before reaching out to capture Amélie’s hand. Laughing, she pulled the hood away and kissed the trapped hand. She pulled away, guilt shining in her eyes. “Sorry.”

The small spot on Amélie’s hand burned. She blinked, seeing Sombra with a busted lip and a toothy grin. Gloved hands reached for her outstretched one and pulled her to the ground with Sombra. She laughed again, bringing Amélie’s hand to bloodied lips.

Amélie blinked again, seeing Sombra staring at her with patient eyes. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” Amélie stood and brought Sombra up with her. She stared at the exit, recalling her dream from before. “Did we ever find the chocolate?”

Sombra took a step back in surprise. “We… we didn’t.” She scratched at her face in contemplation. “I don’t think there’s food here.”

“Did we get to check everywhere?”

“That’s impossible.”

“Not enough time?”

Sombra crossed her arms and bit her bottom lip. “Something like that.”

Amélie took hold of Sombra’s hand and lead them to the exit. “We can try again.” She looked back to search Sombra’s face for any hint of hesitation. All she found was a small smile as Sombra kicked at the ground.

“Yeah, okay.”

They searched room by room, checking under couch cushions, inside drawers, and closets. It became clear with each new room that something wasn’t quite right. Each one was a bedroom and nothing more. There were a couple rooms where they found people sleeping but most of them were empty.

At the end of one hallway, Amélie saw a red door. It had a black 7 painted on it. “What’s that?”

Sombra paused after opening another room to look down the hall. “The door to the stairs.”

“Can we use it to go to the other floors?”

“It locks each time you leave that room.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re not supposed to be here.”

“Have you used it?”

Sombra smiled. “I have to, you keep moving.”

“What about the bottom? Floor 13. Have you been there?”

“That door has always been locked.”

Amélie squinted her eyes, trying to recall any memories. A scream. Someone had gripped her arm, squeezing it tight under their fingers. Sombra tugged on her sleeve, snapping her out of the experience.

“We shouldn’t be out in the halls for long.”

At the nervous eyes pleading for her to move, Amélie nodded and finally entered the new room. The dresser caught her attention. Her eyes zoned in on the bottom drawer. She walked to it, bending down to open it. Her hand pushed through folded clothes, pulling out something wrapped in paper from the bottom.

Amélie took the package to the bed and tugged on the strings holding it together. She felt Sombra take a seat next to her as she unwrapped the paper.

“Well damn,” said Sombra. She stared wide-eyed at the box of chocolates sitting on Amélie’s lap. She picked up a truffle after Amélie opened the box. “This is all you,” she popped the chocolate into her mouth, “because I already checked that drawer earlier.”

It made no sense. Amélie rolled a caramel between her fingers, trying to decipher what Sombra meant. It was becoming a habit to ask Sombra everything. She unwrapped the chocolate, deciding to drop the thought as she bit into it. There were more important things to figure out.

“I want to find out what’s on floor 13.”

Sombra dropped her second piece of chocolate. Her fingers shook as she scrambled to pick it up from the bed. “Why?” She focused on squishing the chocolate in her hand, molding it to some unrecognizable form.

“It’s the last floor, isn’t it?”

A shrug.

“You know something.”

“I don’t…” Sombra finally ate the chocolate, staring intently at the sheets as she chewed. “I don’t know anything about floor 13.”

“Something about it bothers you.”

Sombra lifted her gaze. “I can’t talk about it right now.”

The meaning behind Sombra’s words was clear. A refusal to speak. Amélie nodded at the response, respecting that Sombra didn’t want to talk anymore on the subject. She picked up a chocolate and offered it Sombra. A treaty of sorts. Sombra smiled at the gesture and took the offered candy.

Footsteps.

Amélie closed the box of chocolates and handed it to Sombra. She stood from the bed and walked to the door. Opening it, she peeked her head into the hall to check for figures in white. “It’s clear.” Amélie held her hand out for Sombra, smiling as Sombra clutched the chocolates close to her chest and hurried to grab her hand.

Amélie walked in front this time, taking them down the maze of identical hallways until they reached the empty room that housed the black door. Sombra let go of her hand and held the chocolates tighter against her chest.

As Amélie closed the distance to the black door, the walls lit up. The same image repeated on each wall. A video. It showed a sleeping Sombra, deep purple blankets hanging off her shoulder. Blackness chopped through the footage.

A pang of cold burst through Amélie’s heart when a blue hand reached out to brush away the strand of hair sticking to Sombra’s face. She stood still as her voice carried through the room. She was singing a soft tune for the sleeping woman.

Amélie turned around at the sound of something hitting the ground. Chocolates rolled along the floor, spilling from a lidless box. Sombra had stepped up to the wall. Her trembling fingers reached for the looping video and pressed against the wall with gentle pressure. She shifted her gaze to Amélie, eyes watered with unshed tears and lips parted in surprise.

An unknown memory. The images flashing across the wall undoubtedly came from her but, try as she might, Amélie couldn’t recall the rest of the scene.

Sombra faced the wall again and leaned forward, pressing her forearms against it. She balled her fists, curling them tight as tears ran down her face. “That’s not fair.” The video paused for a moment and then skipped forward. Sombra nearly choked as her own voice played back: I love you. She pounded her fist against the wall as uncontrollable sobbing shook her body. “That’s not fair.” Her hoarse voice screamed the same phrase as the clip repeated.

The walls went blank and three figures in white came rushing through the door. They pushed past Sombra and went straight for Amélie. Amélie almost tripped on her own feet as she tried to move away. She got within arms reach of the black door before someone yanked her back. One of them held her arm behind her back as another held a syringe out and uncapped it. They shrugged her jacket down to expose her skin.

Amélie ended up on the floor the moment before the syringe touched her arm. They let go of her in a struggle to get up from the ground. She used her arms to pull herself out from under the heap of bodies. Someone pulled on her jacket, refusing to let her get away. She shrugged it off.

When she finally broke free, she flipped around to see Sombra on top of her assailants. She was sitting on the back of one while keeping her arm wrapped around the neck of another and desperately clawing her fingers into the third person’s arm.

“Go!”

Scrambling to her feet, Amélie dashed for the black door, sighing in relief as it opened with her touch. She sank to the ground and checked her arm for any needle marks. Having no clue as to what the syringe contained, Amélie instinctively knew to keep away from it. She dropped her hands to the floor when she found nothing.

“I can’t decide anything for you but…”

“What?”

“I wish you would just stay.”

8

Amélie lifted her head up and checked the floor number. 8. She focused on the door and moved her leg. Her foot kicked the door and to her surprise, it opened. Sombra sat on the other side bright-eyed and smiling.

“Good morning.”

“Is it morning?”

Sombra shrugged. “It might as well be.” She held her hand out, keeping her fingers from passing the threshold. When Amélie took the offered hand, Sombra pulled them both into a standing position.

“You’re okay. How did you get away?”

Putting her arms behind her head, Sombra grinned at the question. “Those guys aren’t that smart.”

The first things Amélie noticed after stepping over the threshold were the curtains. They covered the walls in their entirety. Memories of last their last encounter came rushing back. “About last time…”

Sombra’s smile grew. “I guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry about what?”

“That I don’t remember you. Us.”

The smile wavered for a fraction of a second. “It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not.”

Sombra walked to the exit, Amélie in tow. She opened the door and paused before walking into the next room. “I have to be okay with it.”

The curtain pattern persisted for every sliver of wall they walked by. They wandered the halls in silence until Sombra decided that the next door they found was good enough. She laughed as the lights turned on. In the corner of the room sat a wooden-framed bunkbed.

“Bottom bunk is mine,” said Sombra as she ran into the room. She jumped onto the bottom bed and hugged the pillow with a smile on her face.

Amélie walked to the bed and leaned her head against the frame for the top bunk. She peered down at Sombra and felt her lips tug up as Sombra craned her neck to look at Amélie. “You’re enjoying this.”

“You need a sense of humor for this place.”

This place. She wanted to ask Sombra more questions because it was apparent that she knew exactly what this place was. As she stared down at Sombra, the urge to ask faded. Amélie wanted to keep her smiling.

“Tell me something about us. Before this place.”

Sombra flipped over in the bed to lie on her back. She placed the pillow on her chest and hugged it. “You were surprisingly affectionate.”

“Surprisingly?”

“Emotions were… Hard for you. But you always tried. I remember you broke into an ice-cream shop at 4 in the morning to get me a double scoop chocolate ice-cream cone. That was really sweet.”

“The ice-cream?”

Sombra laughed and threw the pillow at Amélie. “You.”

A simple sidestep to the left and the pillow missed Amélie by a centimeter. “What else?”

“You’d take me driving. Never a set destination. I actually think you had a thing for driving expensive convertibles.” Sombra smirked. “And, of course, me.”

Amélie let go of the frame and took a seat on the bottom bunk. She reached out to mess with Sombra’s hair, covering Sombra’s face with it. “Oh? I did?”

A puff of air moved a bit of hair away from Sombra’s face. She had to brush some of it away to see. “You absolutely did.” She laughed when Amélie messed with her hair again, making her efforts useless.

A knock sounded on the door.

Amélie paused, hand hovering in the air as she looked to the door.

Another knock.

Sombra sat up. She pushed herself to the edge of the bed and waited for another knock.

Nothing.

Sliding off the bed, Sombra headed for the door. She waited a moment and then opened the door. Stepping out in the hall, she stood there as a peculiar expression took over her face. “What the hell.”

Amélie stepped out into the hall as well. She checked both directions, seeing nothing but the curtains lining the wall. Farther along the wall she noticed movement from behind the curtains. Something small fell to the floor. Amélie got closer and saw that it was a piece of paper. Kneeling, she picked it up and froze.

A photo, the kind from one of those novelty booths. There were three pictures on the strip. The bottom was torn, the possible fourth picture nowhere to be seen. The first picture had Sombra smiling wide at the camera. Amélie sat beside her, focusing all her attention at Sombra for the picture. She seemed satisfied, content to be in that booth with Sombra. The next photo showed Sombra looking up, a small frown on her lips as Amélie continued to smile down at her. The last one showcased a reluctant grin on Sombra as Amélie leaned down to kiss her cheek.

Amélie leaned against the wall, staring at the strip in her hand. Her head hurt the longer she looked but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she needed to wait.

_“You’re not looking at the camera.”_

_“Because I found something better.”_

_“And what’s that?”_

_“You.”_

Amélie raised her hand to her lips as a light tingling settled over them. The feeling vanished at her own touch. She flipped the strip over, seeing the scrawled print. It read: Amélie and. The rest belonged with the torn off piece. Amélie pushed off the wall and spotted Sombra on the other side of the hall. Sombra was preoccupied with something in her hand, barely moving as she stared at it.

“Sombra?”

Sombra didn’t look away from her hand. “Hm?”

Step after step, Sombra stood still as Amélie got closer. “What’s in your hand?”

“It’s…” Sombra jerked her head up as she slipped her hand into her jacket pocket. “It’s something for another time.”

“That’s a pattern with you. It’s always later, never now.”

“I used to tell you everything but you always forgot. There’s only so much I can take before it starts to hurt,” Sombra’s bottom lip trembled. She sucked in a breath through her teeth to keep the tears at bay, “and I’ve been hurting a long time.”

You always forgot.

“How many times has this happened?”

Sombra dropped her head. “Do you really want me to answer that?”

I don’t know. “I-” Amélie saw past Sombra, backing up on instinct when she saw two people in white standing right behind her.

“Just go.” Sombra reached behind her and grabbed hold of an arm in each hand.

Amélie stumbled back. She put the photo strip into her pocket and ran.

As she ran, the curtains dropped from the wall, revealing picture frames of her memories, her life with Sombra. Amélie ran past them and heard the cracking of glass from each frame that fell.

The black door was already open by the time she arrived. Amélie walked in and pulled out the photo strip. Her fingers felt along the torn edge as she tried to remember the rest of that moment.

Footsteps approached. She turned around and saw that the door had not closed.

“Close.”

They came closer with slow steps.

“Close.”

As one of them reached for her, Amélie shut her eyes and crumpled the photo in her hand. “Close.”

The door shut and she leaned the back of her head against it. Her eyes burned as a tear slipped past them.

“I don’t want to forget.”

“Why am I here?”

“You did something.”

9

She found Sombra sleeping on the floor. As Amélie stepped closer, a rush of calm washed over her. Amélie took a seat next to Sombra and smiled as Sombra turned over in her sleep to face her.

How long have you been waiting?

You must be tired.

Amélie tucked away a stray strand of hair behind Sombra’s ear. Her fingers jolted when Sombra unconsciously grabbed them and her hand ended up joining Sombra’s as a makeshift pillow.  Unwilling to take her hand back, Amélie pressed her knees against her chest and closed her eyes. Despite the sleep she already had, her eyes drooped from Sombra’s influence.

You can rest.

I’ll be here.

“I was scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“I wanted to stay with you but I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t walk in there.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I did something too but you took the fall for all of it.”

“Would you rather we both forget?”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”

She woke up in a bed. Sombra sat beside her, idly flipping a tiny square of paper between her fingers. Amélie recognized the torn edge. She pulled out the photo strip from her pocket, smoothing it out with her fingers. “You have the last picture.”

Sombra jerked her head at the sound, started by Amélie’s words. She gently took the paper from Amélie and smiled at the photos. “I pretended to be upset with you because you were looking at me instead of the camera. You dialed up the charm and my plan backfired quick.”

“What is on the last picture?”

Sombra’s face fell. She stared down at the sheets, absentmindedly picking at the nonexistent lint. “It’s…”

The door slid open and two people in white stepped inside. Sombra moved her hand inside her jacket and pulled out a gun. She huffed out a puff of air as she tapped the gun against her knee. “You know, I’m running out of bullets.”

Two shots fired and yellow blood splattered against the walls. The bodies twitched as they hit the floor.

Sombra got up from the bed and held out her hand for Amélie. “Let’s go.”

The walk turned out short. Sombra must have carried Amélie to the closest room while she slept.

“Here.” Sombra held out the square piece of paper to Amélie. “I don’t need it.”

Already standing in the glass box, waiting for the door to close, Amélie reached out to take the paper. An electric jolt traveled through her hand at Sombra’s touch. A single name repeated in her head. How could she forget it?

“Olivia.”

The door slammed shut as the image of purple eyes wide in surprise stared back at her.

“It hurts you each time I forget.”

“Yes, but…”

“But?”

“When you remember, everything else feels like a dream.”

10

Amélie held the picture in her hand, feeling a tear roll down her cheek in frustration. It was too dark to see. She knew what it had, knew every moment leading up to it. She remembered it all. The life they had. The risk they took. All of it. She cried from the pain, from the memories dangled in front of her only to be snatched away again.

Two knocks sounded against the door. She wasn’t alone. As long as she stayed stuck in this place, she never would be.

Amélie wiped the tears away and pressed her hand to the door. It slid open to reveal Olivia sitting in front of the door again, a tearful smile on her face.

“Hi.”

Amélie lurched forward and tackled Olivia with a hug. She pressed her face into a warm neck, wrapping her arms tighter around Olivia. “I’m sorry.” Hot tears dripped onto Olivia’s neck as Amélie cried again. “I’m sorry I forgot.” Jagged breaths escaped her lungs when gentle arms pulled her closer.

“It’s okay.” Olivia ran a hand across Amélie’s back, smoothing away the shaking. “It was never your fault.”

Amélie propped herself up on her elbows. She locked eyes with Olivia, feeling warmth blooming in her chest. “You’re too good.”

“Only for you.”

Moving away from Olivia, Amélie stood up and offered a hand to Olivia. “Let’s go.”

They walked side by side. Olivia swung their hands in gentle motions as she hummed a song to herself. Amélie recognized the tune, one of those cheesy romance songs Olivia was fond of. It brought a familiar image. Similar scenes repeated, slight variations marking them as unique.

Amélie stopped. She let go of Olivia and pressed a hand to her forehead. Her eyes hurt as each scenario passed through her mind. They’ve been through this countless times before. Amélie raised her gaze to Olivia and felt the headache get worse. “How?”

Olivia stepped closer and brushed a stray strand of hair behind Amélie’s ear. She smiled as she reached out to take hold of Amélie’s hand again. “How what?”

Amélie squeezed Olivia’s hand tighter. A tear rolled down her cheek, frustration and immeasurable guilt finally escaping. “How can you keep doing this?”

“This place is a punishment and it does a damn good job of it. We got into this mess together and that’s how it’ll always be. Us, together. I’m not going to give up on you just because things got a little hard.”

Amélie let Olivia pull her closer. She leaned her head against Olivia’s shoulder and wrapped her arms tight around Olivia. “A little hard.” Her tears pooled into a single spot on Olivia’s shirt but she didn’t seem to mind. Olivia held her tighter and let her cry.

“Yeah, just a little.”

“I changed my mind.”

“About what?”

“About the one thing I could have right now. It’d be you.”

11

She found Olivia standing in the corner by the door. Olivia had her arms crossed and her chin resting against her collarbone. Amélie stood in front of her and furrowed her brows in thought. She reached for Olivia’s arm and gave it a gentle shake. Olivia snoozed on, unaware of Amélie’s curious experiment.

Amélie pinched Olivia’s cheek next, pulling the skin lightly and smiling when Olivia tried to swat her hand away. “When did you start sleeping standing up?” She got no reply and grinned at the novelty of it all. “Olivia.” A smile spread across Olivia’s face at the mention of her name. Amélie tapped Olivia’s forehead and repeated the name.

Purple eyes fluttered open in confusion. Olivia blinked through her sleep-filled haze. She almost stumbled forward as she tried to gauge her bearings. “Wha…,” she looked behind her and then to the ground before focusing back on Amélie, “Was I asleep?”

Of course. Amélie knew the question didn’t need an answer but she wanted to tease Olivia a bit more. “You don’t remember the conversation we were having?”

“Huh? What conversation?”

“You were just telling me…” Amélie wrapped her arms behind Olivia’s neck and smiled.

“Telling you what?” Olivia grinned as she caught on to the game.

“That you love me.” Her heart stilled when Olivia’s smile vanished. She felt her chest constrict as Olivia touched her face, warm fingers outlining her jawline.

“I’d say it a million times over if you wanted me to.”

Amélie’s breath hitched. She felt her pulse thrumming in her veins, reaching up to her fingertips. “Can you tell me now?” Everything she wanted boiled down to hearing those words again.

The lights in the room flickered as Olivia leaned in close. “I love you.” She kissed Amélie, warm lips barely lingering before she pulled away, repeating the phrase Amélie wanted to hear. “I love you.” Olivia kissed her again. She pulled Amélie as close to her as their bodies would allow, holding on tight as Amélie shook in her arms.

Tears rolled down Amélie’s cheeks. She pulled away from the kiss when she couldn’t stop the trembling of her lips. Her hands grabbed fistfuls of Olivia’s jacket and she rested her head against Olivia’s chest as choked hiccups refused to leave her throat.

“I love you.” Olivia’s voice grew soft, repeating the words in whispers as the lights flickered off.

You don’t deserve this.

They moved, taking small steps until Amélie’s feet hit the threshold of that room. She backed up into it until her shoulder hit the glass wall. All she could see was the faint glow of Olivia’s cybernetics.

“I’ll see you again,” Olivia said as the lights flickered on. She was the last barrier between Amélie and a room full of white-clad figures. They grabbed Olivia by the arm and yanked her back.

Purple lights flickering away were the last thing she saw as the door slid closed.

“I think I know what’s on the 13th floor.”

“What is it?”

“Everything you forgot.”

12

Olivia stood in front of the door, her head hanging low. She only lifted her gaze when Amélie touched her arm.

“You’re not going to make it past here.”

A cold shock shot through Amélie’s spine. “What do you mean?”

“They’re already standing outside.”

“Why haven’t they walked in yet?”

“I locked the door.”

The torn away panel on the far side of the room finally came into view. Amélie noticed the red on the walls and looked back to Olivia, to the blood covering her jagged fingernails.

“Then I’ll go back in.”

Olivia shook her head at Amélie’s words. “The door never closes on the 12th floor.” She backed away from the small room. “See for yourself. The more you kept moving down and remembering, the stronger they get until they finally stop you. It never changes. Remember, this place is a punishment for what we did.”

As a banging sound drifted in from the other side of the room, Amélie stood behind the threshold and waited. She waited as the far door burst open. She waited when they grabbed Olivia, restraining her by both arms. She waited until they finally reached in and pulled her out.

The grip on her arm was tight. One of them pulled out a syringe and uncapped it. Amélie ducked and pulled her arms back the best that she could. She spoke to them, one last ditch effort to delay the inevitable. “What happens when you reach the last floor, floor 13?” She winced as they jabbed a needle into her arm. A numbness overtook her arm and her eyes widened at the synthetic voice that responded.

“I don’t know because it goes on forever.”

Amélie’s body went slack and her heart jolted at the response. She looked over at Olivia who sat calmly in her restrained position. “What did we do?”

Olivia opened her mouth to answer but closed it as a syringe came into view. She shook her head and balled her fists in frustration. She locked eyes with Amélie for one moment, her eyes apologizing, before she disappeared, leaving Amélie, unable to move as the drug worked its way through her system.

Amélie screamed her question, blackness overtaking her vision.

“What did we do?”

13

Olivia opened the door to the stairwell. It closed softly behind her as her eyes adjusted to the red light. She walked down these stairs too many times to count, each time reaching the door that never opened. It was black with a white 13 painted on. She pressed a hand to it, willing it to open but expecting nothing.

She sighed. Curling up her fist, Olivia slammed it against the door and let it slide down to her side. “I’ll see you again.” She turned away from the door and walked away.

Something fell behind her as she grabbed the railing to the stairs. She looked behind and noticed a strip of paper on the floor. A game. She played it sometimes, always knowing the goal was to hurt her.

Bending down, Olivia picked up the familiar photo strip. The last square she tore off was taped back on. She smiled at it, at her and Amélie sharing a silly kiss. Her hand trembled as she flipped it over to see the scrawled print on the back. Her handwriting.

It read: Amélie and Olivia.

 

       

 


End file.
